


Cherry Trees

by SilverServerError



Category: CLAMP - Works, X -エックス- | X/1999
Genre: If You Love Me Answer Me Softly, Is a gift, M/M, Pink - Freeform, and a treausre, fanfic of a fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 13:06:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7977796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverServerError/pseuds/SilverServerError
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you leave home, you have to leave a part of yourself behind. </p>
<p>It's only natural.</p>
<p>But something comes to take its place. </p>
<p>For better or for worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry Trees

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [If You Love Me, Answer Me Softly](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7484628) by [QueenTzahra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenTzahra/pseuds/QueenTzahra). 



> I'm throwing this up quick before the next chapter can make it totally implausible. ^^'

New York was black.

 

From the steel buildings to the rails of the subway to the oily dust that managed to accumulate in every nook and cranny of the streets.

 

“Have you seen my sweatshirt?”

 

Subaru pulled out his dresser drawers again. Everything was folded and in place. There wasn’t really a pile for it to be lost behind.

 

“Which one?”

 

“The one-”

 

The one Hokuto had given him.

 

The pink one.

 

“The one I brought from Japan.”

 

Subaru closed the drawer with that slightly too sharp thud that happened as the mechanism slid shut, even when he was careful to try and ease it back in. He crossed out through the living room to check the laundry closet. With a metallic creak he opened to search through the finished wash, sorting things to go in the dryer at the same time.

 

Or at least until Seishiro caught his eye over a partially lowered newspaper.

 

“What is it?” Subaru asked a little nervously.

 

Seishiro folded the paper, just long enough to run an appreciative eye down and then back up Subaru’s body. For the briefest moment his gaze bored into him, intention unmistakeable. Then the newspaper was back up, leaving Subaru alone, breathless and blushing.

 

And that’s all it took really. The barest of looks and Seishiro could make him-

 

He was so lucky.

 

He swallowed, returning to the task at hand.

 

He leaned down to pluck damp clothes from the washer.

 

Most of Seishiro’s clothes (and his own with the way things were going) were too nice to wash at home and twice a week a laundry service came to pick up and drop off their dry cleaning. But there were always some things he could do with the machine. Underwear. Socks. Some Seishiro’s pants and of course all his T-shirts.

 

He sorted carefully between what could go in the dryer and what need to hang. He’d already shrunken a pair of Seishiro’s slacks by making that mistake and the thought still made him squirm a little. How hard was it to remember to check the label? The pictures were even the same ones they’d had in Japan. He couldn’t even blame it on a translation error. There wasn’t any excuse.

 

“Maybe it got dyed in the wash?”

 

“What did?”

 

“The sweater. I mean, I got that new pair of black jeans. Maybe the colors bled.” In fact it had been looking more grey pink than pastel pink for a while now, getting washed over and over in with the darks that made up their laundry. He continued picking through the damp clothes, hoping to find it buried at the bottom.

 

At least until the newspaper went down again, this time revealing an expression much less approving than the one that had preceded it. “Are we _still_ talking about this?”

  


* * *

 

 

 

New York was white.

 

From the sheets he knelt down on, to the featureless walls of the shower, to his new suit shirts hanging orderly and crisp in their closet.

 

“Are you looking at pink ties?” The voice didn’t betray that much derision, but then again it didn’t have to.

 

“Of course not.”

 

Seishiro had left him to wait while he was in the back with the tailor for a fitting. It wasn’t like he was really that interested in whatever slightly different version of the same three piece suit the place had - in his experience this wasn’t really what ‘fashion’ was supposed to mean - but the boredom seeped in so quickly.

 

“I was just wandering.”

 

Seishiro looked unconvinced. He wore that distasteful little frown he did whenever Subaru started getting annoying. “This is the bathroom walls all over again.”

 

And Subaru might have argued the point-

 

Well, no. Not _argue_. Never argue.

 

But he might have explained the situation a little better except that the store clerk was coming now with a blazer and a few new white shirts on his arm, ready to ring Seishiro up. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass him by suggesting in public that he might have the kind of partner that liked pink.

 

Which he didn’t obviously.

 

Just that one shade.

 

And it wasn’t like he’d actually _wear_ it.

 

Outside the shop, Seishiro handed over the garment bag and used his freed hands to light a cigarette. “Take those to the apartment for me.” He said, not looking at him, but at where the burning embers turned to pale ash. “I’ll be back tonight.”

 

“But I thought we were riding home together?” He’d killed two hours downtown just to be there when Seishiro got out of work. “You said you had the afternoon off.”

 

“Something came up.” Seishiro raised an eyebrow. “Is that going to be a problem?”

 

“No! No, of course not.”

 

Seishiro had been so short with him lately, but he wouldn’t be an onmyoji worth his salt if he couldn’t recognize misdirected anger when he saw it. There must have been something stressful going on at work, especially if they couldn’t even spare him for one day- just a few hours really. He’d tried to ask about it once or twice but it was something Seishiro obviously didn’t want to talk about. That was fine though. He could still be supportive. The least he could do was let a canceled date slide.

 

Seishiro flicked ash away. Subaru kind of wanted a drag but didn’t want to impose.

 

“Have something nice waiting for me at home.”

 

Subaru shifted the garments as they started to feel heavy in his arms, still careful not to crease them.

 

“Like dinner or something?” He asked, warming to the idea of a nice, romantic dinner. Just the two of them at home together.

 

But Seishiro finally caught his eye and a different hunger seemed to be on his mind. His eyes narrowed. “Or something.”

 

With that he was gone.

 

For a moment of helpless shock Subaru just watched his retreating back as it was lost to the lunch time flood of pedestrians, one suit jacket looking like every other in the sea of people. Subaru took a sharp breath in, blinking back to a neutral expression that wouldn’t betray the thoughts the promise of tonight had brought so suddenly to the forefront of his mind.

 

If nothing else, that should get Seishiro out of the mood he’d been in lately.

 

He’d make sure of it.

 

With a small grin on his face and a warm secret in his chest, he turned to join the flow of sidewalk traffic, circling back around the shop on his way to the subway station.

 

With a spring in his step he glanced up at the display. Well-fitted suits weren’t really that much of an accomplishment when they only had to fit the mannequins, but they still looked nice. Seishiro had excellent taste coming to a place like this. Their reputation was impeccable. Well… except for this particular thing.

 

His eye fell on the pink vest and tie combo they’d had the embarrassment of putting in their window. Again he felt a pang because if Seishiro was still with him, they’d share a significant look and try not to laugh at their private joke. He couldn’t help but smile reflexively, turning to catch one last sight of the unfortunate choice of shade.

 

Then he froze, catching his own face sneering back at him in the reflection.

  


* * *

 

 

New York was pink.

 

From the sliver of wrist that felt the chill between the cuff of his gloves and jacket, to the rosy cheeks of the children on their field trip through the park, to Kamui’s flush that he had no choice but to tactfully ignore.

 

“Fuck! I’m so sorry!”

 

“It’s fine.”

 

And it would have been, if it were one of his own cheap t-shirts. As it was, he pulled the clingy, now brown-stained material from his abdomen.

 

“I need to wash this!”

 

“Of course! Um… The sink in the bathroom?”

 

Subaru held the cotton out away from his skin as he entered the small room, shrugging out of his jacket carefully before hurriedly undoing the buttons just below the neck and stripping from the waist up.

 

The undershirt was fine. Who would care or notice? But the buttoned one he shoved under the steaming stream of water. He flinched, finding it to be more scalding than he’d anticipated, then waited impatiently for it too cool to just this side of bearable.

 

He willed the brown stain to wash away, to disappear down the drain, but it didn’t.

 

He took the bar of Kamui’s soap to it, forming white suds as he scrubbed the fabric against itself. He knew better than to think that was a promise that the stain below was doing the same.

 

Seishiro didn’t like to talk about money. Subaru rarely knew how much the gifts and the favors cost. But there were always enough hints. More than Subaru could afford to say the least.

 

With a gasp of relief he saw the water sluice through his hands, leaving nothing but pure white behind. He dropped the fabric, the water to running over it in the sink as he slumped against the wall opposite.

 

“You must really like that shirt.” Kamui’s voice was hesitant, like the ghost of a joke. Like he was trying to break the tension and at the same time expecting a lecture for having stained it in the first place.

 

Subaru’s eyes cracked open, suddenly deeply embarrassed over the way he’d reacted. He hadn’t realized Kamui had been watching.

 

“I…”

 

He didn’t need to look in the mirror to know he was flushing all the way down to his chest.

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to make a big deal out of that.”

 

“It’s fine.” Kamui’s body hugged the door frame like he didn’t really want to be there. He wouldn’t meet Subaru’s eyes. “You’re not the one who made the mess right? What are you apologizing for?”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

"It's cool, I swear, like, don't worry about it"

 

Kamui held out his hand like a peace offering.

 

“Here. I thought- Well until the other one dries at least?”

 

There was a T-shirt in his hands.

 

“Pink?”

 

“Word! I love this color. I just wish it-” Kamuki finally looked up at him and that bright smile died on his lips as Subaru watched. “Sorry.” He continued, looking suddenly apologetic in his whole body. “It’s just the only thing I have that I think would fit you.”

 

Subaru felt wrong-footed, not understanding his sudden reservation until he caught a glance of his own face in the mirror. It bore the same expression Seishiro had given him a thousand times over.

 

He sucked a quick breath in, feeling frozen. Horrified with himself. The new look of shock and betrayal across his own features cut at him and his eyes found refuge in the countertop instead. In the sink that was still running at full blast.

 

“Pink is fine!” Subaru said a little too desperately, his hands closing not just around the shirt, but the hand that held it out.

 

Kamui looked up at him a little unsurely but Subaru met him with an intensity that went far beyond a T-shirt.

 

“I actually really like pink.” Subaru said quietly. It felt like a confession.

 

“You do?”

 

“Yeah.” He pulled away, taking the pastel fabric into his hands, feeling the softness of between his fingertips. “It reminds me of home in a weird way.”

 

Kamui eased into the room, turning off the water. “How’s that?”

 

Subaru held the shirt to his chest and slid down the wall. Not knowing exactly what to do, Kamui joined him on the floor, their legs running parallel as Kamui settled with his back to the counter. He felt suddenly all too aware how long it had been since he’d last swept in here. But Subaru didn’t seem to notice. He was busy staring unseeingly at the drawers under his sink.

 

“The sakura.”

 

“The what?” Kamui prompted gently.

 

He shook his head a little, seeming to come back to this room. Back to New York. “The cherry trees.” He clarified.

 

Kamui nodded slowly, pensive. “You know, we’ve got those here too.”

 

Subaru cracked a smile and looked to him. He gave one back. For the first time since the beer had spilt, things felt ok. “Yeah but not like Japan does.” His gaze slipped down to the fabric and he started to unfold the shirt, sorting out how to put it on. “In the springtime they all bloom. Whole parks just filled with petals.” Subaru trailed off.

 

“Sounds beautiful.”

 

Subaru pulled the shirt over his head and smoothed it down over his chest. As his fingertips held the hem, he was filled with a fond nostalgia.

 

“It is.”

  


* * *

  
  
  


In the coming days, Subaru thought a lot about Tokyo. As always it ate at him with that push-pull of longing and revulsion. But for the first time in a long time, it was more of the former and less of the latter.

 

At the same time, the thought of leaving hurt just as badly. Because New York was just starting to feel familiar. To feel like home.

 

New York was cruelty.

 

New York was kindness.

  
New York was Kamui.


End file.
